Three Days 'Till Midnight
by Shane McGowan Lives
Summary: One Shot: Our favorite lighting bolt scarred hero is now Headmaster of Hogwarts, decades after his defeat of Voldemort.


Disclaimer: Eh, if I was J.K. Rowling, would this be called a fanfiction?

When Old People Flirt

His eyes twinkled. As he leaned forward and looked them in the eye with a piercing stare, Harry could just feel the Headmaster's eyes going through his very soul. He shifted nervously. The Headmaster's eyes immediately focused on him, and a small smile wound its way across his still youngish features.

"So," The Headmaster began, "How did Professor Malfoy end up pink?" He asked.

Harry shifted again. The Headmaster chuckled a bit, and leaned back in his chair, idly scratching at his scraggly facial hair. "Really, Mr. Sakesworth, I don't need to know. What interests me is how you managed to make such a…an eclectic potion."

Harry Sakesworth, second year Gryffindor student of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, shifted again. As did his friends, Desdemona Dunfiggle, and Frederick and George Weasly, respectively; after all, it wasn't every day that one was called into Headmaster Harry Potter's office. Well, the Weasly twins weren't shifting so much as they were probably trying to keep their laughter inside, and failing horribly.

Harry glanced over to his Transfiguration teacher and Potter's wife, Nymphadora. She looked, as always, rather mischievous, and did not try to hide her mirth. In fact, she stood and walked around, before laughing hysterically again.

The Headmaster was smiling widely now, but was looking at his wife. "Nymphadora, we should let them finish. Maybe they will have found something out?"

She immediately stopped laughing and glared at her husband. "Just wait until they leave, Mr. Potter. You know what to call me in front of others."

The headmaster looked innocent. "Oh, you mean 'Kitten'?" He looked down in though for a moment. "Or was it—," He was stopped by a well timed _'Silencio'_ from his wife. By this time, Fred and George were laughing loudly and were nearly out of their seats in mirth. Desdemona looked a bit nervous and rather amused as well, but the unease was in her eyes, just as it was in his; the twins didn't seem to care, but then they knew the headmaster and his wife personally, so maybe they were used to it. Did the Headmaster really just _flirt_? Eww.

"Just wait, you." Mrs. Potter said, though her glare had been reduced to another mirthful smile. She released the Headmaster from his silence, and he smiled widely back at her.

"Oh, I'll be waiting, Kitten." He chuckled and parried her next hex with a flick of his hand. "And yes, Mr. Sakesworth, I was indeed just doing what you thought I was doing." Harry looked mystified again. The young wizard was totally wierded out by the Headmaster's antics. It was uncomfortable, watching them flirt with each other like they had only been married the day before. Well, maybe not the day before, but only for a few months. Harry Sakesworth may have only been in second year, but he knew the honeymoon wasn't time for anything other than making babies. Okay, now he definitely needed to stop.

"But now, my dear beloved wife, I think it is time we and our young charges continue with the reason we are here." He gestured to Desdemona. "My dear, you might be pleased to see the next generation of Animaguses before us." He paused, to let this sink in. His wife had stumbled with a mumbled 'bugger' when she had heard, and the others were all silent as they heard the Headmaster speak. "This is indeed a rather odd thing to happen. I myself did not become an Animagus until I was twenty, though I may be excused, as there other demands on me at the time." He smiled benignly, but his eyes' twinkle had dimmed a bit. "But still, to have achieved so far as to actually make the potion—which needs one to have first ascertained whether one can be an Animagus or not, and have progressed to the point where on has already mentally prepared oneself—is an astounding and I must say humbling achievement. It is too bad that you spilled the _Protean_ Potion on Professor Malfoy, as you must work another few months to prepare it." The Headmaster's twinkle had now jumped up past the level it was before, behind his rounded glasses.

Harry jumped. He knew what sort of potion it was? He looked at the others guiltily, an apology written all over his features.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mate." Fred said genially, unconsciously imitating his favorite Grand-Uncle's own speech patterns. "It was worth it to see Malfoy's face when it happened."

The Headmaster smiled. "Indeed. Now, get along, and tomorrow after Supper in the Great Hall come up again, and see me. Desdemona will need to see what she did wrong with the Potion, and stories will have to be told. The password will be 'Wronski Feint'."

As they left, Professor Potter and the Headmaster's laughter floated down to them. "How old is the Headmaster, Fred?" Harry asked, as they walked down the stairway.

Fred looked back at his friend. "Headmaster Potter? Umm, I think he's nearing his eighties. Seventy-six or seventy-seven. 'Ole Nymphadora is round eighty-three, I think. You never ask her age, or she'll embarrass you until she's right sure you never ask again. Why? Hey there, chap! Are you gonna escort us to our holding cells, mister Head Boy?"

Harry also greeted the Headmaster's grandchild, whose name was Sirius, as they walked out of the stairwell, and followed him down the corridor to the Gryffindor common room, though not nearly as randomly as Fred had. Sirius waved to Harry while replying to Fred that he just never had gotten caught, 'though Grandpa always seemed to give him little hints as to how get around the castle'. "They don't look that old at all."

George took up the answering this time. "That's because they're Metamorphmaguses. They won't age like others. If Headmaster Potter continues as he usually does, he'll probably live until he's two hundred and fifty years old. Still wierds me out when they flirt like that though, but not as much as our Grandma and Grandpa; they don't look as old." Fred nodded sagely in agreement.

Sirius looked back. "You talking 'bout Grandma and Grandpa? Cause Grandma'll definitely make sure you'll never able to show your faces in public again, right?" Fred and George shuddered, but still smiled appreciatively of their friends' grandmother. No one could prank and have fun like Nymphadora Potter. Except maybe their Grand-Uncles.

All such uncomfortable thought was driven away as talk shifted to the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, and Sirius' almost assured role in it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know how much you sounded like Dumbledore?" She asked, practically skipping over to him and tripping into his lap. Harry smiled and hugged his wife closer to himself. He kissed her head, looking down his nose into her pink hair. Despite their age, they only looked like normal wizards would in their fifties, maybe even their forties. And just because wizards tend to live a bit longer on the average than muggles didn't mean that wizards aged well. And even the rare power of Metamorphmagi cannot hold back the effects of time forever. She giggled, and Harry rolled his eyes. Would she ever grow up?

"I would hope so. The man was good; I just don't want to look at the poor girl the way he looked at me." Harry said. "But I do realize why he kept the prophecy from me."

Nymphadora looked at her husband for a long moment, and kissed him. She looked even younger than her husband, due to her greatly out-distancing his prowess at controlling the powers needed for changing. He at first didn't care about her looks, but after age seemed to creep into her, she would use her power to allay the fear he had gotten in his eyes, and she de-aged herself. He was scared that she would die before him, and leave him alone, even though he knew perfectly well that he would most likely die before her, due to his wounds from Voldemort and his lesser metamorphmagi powers. Even with his Gift, 'the Power that He knew not', he would most likely die before her.

"Oh, stop being such a worry wart. Harbennaw isn't nearly as powerful as Voldemort was." She grinned lecherously at him, waggling her eyebrows. "Or do I need to take your mind off of things for a while?" She grinned as his hands began to wander. "I'll take that as a yes."

Harry grinned, as she changed into her birth form. "Well Professor Potter, what do you have in mind?"

She snorted. "Stop talking to yourself Harry. You're still 'Professor Potter' too, even if you are Headmaster." Her hands began their magic massage, and Harry just relaxed into their very familiar routine, which was always punctuated by rather sharp and unknown twists which kept the excitement up. Phineas' comments on modesty sent them into their bedroom before anything embarrassing could happen. Of course, after they were done, Nymphadora's comment on how Dumbledore and McGonagall would view their antics in the office sent them into gales of laughter, and he couldn't help but keep laughing long after they had settled into bed to actually sleep, and long after they had awakened the next morning. Mostly it was because he _had_ heard their thoughts on the matter. Or had heard their portrait's thoughts on it. It really didn't matter; it was close enough to the real person that he could assume they would react in the same way. Thankfully, whenever heavy petting had begun, all the portraits would find themselves vacated for the moment, and most likely for the entire day. Except for Phineas Nigellus of course, who just lived to annoy the half-blood wizard every day of his life.

But with Nymphadora, Harry thought he could stand the annoyance for another day. After all, if he couldn't deal with a portrait, how could he deal with a school full of annoying teenagers?

"One day at a time, dear. One day at a time." Nymphadora had said once when he had asked her that question. He wondered if she would still answer the same way now.

He wasn't very surprised when she just laughed, took his hand and held it, and answered the same way when he had asked her during breakfast. To the uncomfortable dismay of the entire student body, he noted with some amusement. Nymphadora had noticed it as well.

"Ah, to be young again." He said with an exaggerated reminiscence. Nymphadora snorted in a very unladylike manner, and agreed with him, but muttered something under her breath about something that didn't need to be young to keep her happy that he really didn't care to hear where others could listen. Some people never grew up, despite their age. And, to his never decreasing joy, he had married one of them.

AN: Well, my first Honks fic. Tell me whatcha thought, and maybe I'll tell ya where to stick it, eh? Nah. Go ahead, I need the help.


End file.
